cigars. Suddenly it all flashed across me, the fitness of things, the
rich joy of escaping from chattering artists and cranks and reformers
and all the crowds who had Done Something: I understood about pomp and
circumstance. As I ate my ham and eggs next morning I became an
initiate into their perfect mystery. (The eggs, I may say, must be
fried, not poached.) The ham was a hill red with autumn and the eggs
houses of gold in pure gardens of white. Then I swore to go back home
and kick out the cotton king who used to come here for three weeks in
the year. I would set up a new temple to the goddess and, worship her
with all due rites. So I married my host's daughter, who was sound
about ham and eggs and never played with fruit at breakfast-time, and
here I am. I've stuck to it, for, as I said, you can't worship for a
week and then go away: that isn't fair on the mystery. You've got to
let things soak in. I've let the spirit of Ham and Eggs soak into me
and I'm not tempted now to get it out again."

"And you didn't repent at the beginning?"

"Never permanently. I'm not idle. I'm a J.P., a soundly democratic
J.P., to the disgust of the Colonels. I work on a host of committees
and I direct two highly disreputable companies. Just because I like to
live here in the country and be an acolyte for the goddess, there's no
reason why I shouldn't do a lot besides. You can believe that I'm a
much better squire than the rest of them. Of course I'm well aware
that there oughtn't to be squires and that the whole thing is wrong.
But equally plainly there are squires, and squiredom has its point, of
which I may as well make the most. So I've played the part properly.
To begin with, I put my farms on a business basis, gave a reasonable
minimum, and became unpopular with my neighbours because I made them
pay. If the State demands my abolition, I'll go like a shot, but I
don't intend to let some magnate from Mincing Lane, who never eats ham,
come and buy the place, redecorate the house--as he'd call it--buy some
ancestors at Christie's and arrange an aerodrome. You young men think
that because you like one sort of pleasure you've got to drop the
others. It's all rubbish. I'll read any literature you want and talk
you silly, but only after ham and eggs for breakfast and port wine for
dinner. To hell with lunch!"

John Berrisford talked happily on and Martin was always pleased to
listen.

"You're not converted?" sai